


best served hot

by checkmate



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, kind of, thomas is ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4027264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkmate/pseuds/checkmate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revenge is a beverage that is best served as scalding hot as Minho can possibly make it. </p><p>Based on the prompt/AU: "Bumping into a cute person and getting coffee all over my shirt sounds a lot like those romantic comedy movies but now I’m actually soaked and it’s cold and this is definitely not how this was supposed to go and I want revenge. Beware."</p>
            </blockquote>





	best served hot

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [ this prompt](http://newtttheglue.tumblr.com/post/119952610201/submitted-au-255) and the following response in the tags provided by Jess because she is queen of filling prompts in the tags and making other people want to fill them so she doesn't have to, the nefarious asshole. (luv u)

Thomas needed coffee, like _stat._ As in, he was about to cease functioning if he didn’t inhale his body weight in caffeine within the next ten minutes. One day, he was going to learn that leaving essays until the night before the deadline was a horrible, terrible idea, but he had yet to have that moment of revelation, and thus pulled what could easily be quantified as the most ridiculous all-nighter of his short life. And now, he _needed_ coffee.

“Looking hot, Thomas.” Minho grinned at him from across the counter when he eventually reached the front.

“Go away.” He moaned, rubbing his eyes viciously as they threatened to close while just, you know, standing up in a coffee shop. “Don’t go away, please. Need coffee. Or I’m actually going to die.”

Minho snorted, but set to work making the Thomas All Nighter Special - a dangerous concoction he had invented after the first situation not at all dissimilar to this morning. Thomas didn’t want to know how many espresso shots were in it, and he didn’t ask, but it did the trick and that’s all he cared about. “Here.” He grinned a few minutes later. The coffee fumes – ridiculously insanely strong coffee fumes – were already perking him up. “And remember, I’m not picking up the pieces when you crash in three hours. Get some proper sleep next time.” Thomas shrugged, and inhaled deeply from the enormous cup Minho had handed him, hoping just the smell of it would wake him up enough to make it to class without falling asleep on the side of the road, or at least tide him over until it was cool enough to drink. He learned the hard way that pouring burning hot coffee down your throat really wasn’t worth it, even for the caffeine.

To the left of him, a chair slid back and before he had time to react, someone stepped backwards into his path, knocking his arms that still clutched the paper cup to his chest. “Fuck!” He yelled, dropping the cup in surprise as scalding hot coffee spilled over his hands and all down the front of his shirt. _Fuck_ , Minho made that hot, and it was burning his chest like an absolute bitch. Thomas just wanted to rip the material off, try to stop it burning his skin, but like… public decency, so he settled for tugging it away from himself as far as possible. “Watch where you’re going, idiot!”

The guy, tall blonde haired asshole, scrabbled for a bunch of shitty thin paper napkins and turned around with them clutched in his hand. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He apologised, at least making the effort to seem sincere and, oh – English accent. Thomas looked up in surprise and holy fucking shit, this guy was cute and this was quickly becoming a scene out of a dodgy romantic comedy. “Let me help you, I-” Thomas snatched the napkins from him, drawing a line at the ‘Awkwardly Paws At Your Wet Shirt’ cliché because God, his life was more than this, and attempted to dab up some of the liquid. Totally futile.

He wanted to yell and get mad but shit, the guy was really damn cute. Fuck.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He said falsely. “At least it’s stopped burning me.” Blond Guy laughed nervously, and fished out his wallet.

“Here, at least take some money for the coffee and for ruining your morning.” He held out a ten dollar bill, looking embarrassed, and very aware that half the shop had turned around to look at them thanks to Thomas’ outburst. “I insist.” He said firmly, pushing it into the hand that previously held what was sure to be a delicious, caffeine filled cup of coffee. “Do you live nearby? I live just around the corner, you can borrow a shirt if you want to.”

Thomas was pretty sure this was genuinely the plot of a rom com, some Julia Roberts bullshit Teresa had blackmailed him into sitting through, so he shook his head. “No, it’s fine, I can manage in this.” He lied, the shirt being more coffee stain than fabric and God if he didn’t let his soak it was never going to come out and he _liked_ this shirt, and… “I have a change of clothes in my car.” He heard Minho snort from behind him, but he bluffed on. “A gym hoodie or something, at least.” A non-existent gym hoodie in a non-existent car – wait, was he actually trying to show off to this guy?

“Okay well, as long as you’re okay. Again, I’m so bloody sorry – I didn’t catch your name.”

“Thomas.”

“I’m Newt. Sorry. Again.” He said, and with an embarrassed smile, left the coffee shop.

As soon as the door closed behind him, the romantic comedy illusion shattered and okay no there was nothing romantic or comedic about a rapidly cooling and damp shirt clinging to your chest on a really not that warm day. And he _stank_ of coffee. “Here.” Minho said, outing another coffee into his hands. “I put some cold water in it so it should be drinkable.”

Thomas took a large mouthful and God that was what he needed, much nicer on in his mouth than on his shirt, but not even coffee changed the fact that he still had to go and hand in his stupid essay and his shirt was soaked through and _freezing_ and yeah basically his life sucked. “He barely got a drop on him!” He moaned, gesturing at the door where Newt had just left. “He knocked into me and _I’m_ the one covered in coffee. How the hell is that fair?”

Minho tried not to laugh. “Just go home, get changed and calm down a bit, man.”

“I _can’t._ I have to hand in this essay, why do you think I was up all night? I don’t just do it for fun, you know.” Well, other than that time where Minho was like, ‘There’s no way you can stay up all night’ and Thomas just felt so compelled to prove him wrong. _Normally_ he doesn’t do it for fun. “That guy is going to pay.” He muttered, and that broke the dam of laughter Minho had been trying so hard to contain.

“Please tell me this is the start of a terribly orchestrated revenge plot.”

“My revenge plots are _never_ terribly orchestrated.”

*

“Hey Thomas.” Minho said in surprise as he stalked into the coffee shop the following day, eyes narrowed. He didn’t bother responding, just scanned over the current clientele searching for one tall, blonde, English head. “Who are you looking for?”

“Newt.” He answered shamelessly. Overnight, his feelings towards the other guy had transformed from ‘you’re too cute to be mad at’ into ‘how dare you even offend me with your presence, you evil conniving little coffee spiller’. Yes, okay, it was irrational, but whatever. Thomas loved a good revenge plot. “I’ll have a large Americano, please.”

Once Minho had made it, still sniggering under his breath, Thomas took the drink and sat at his pre-chosen reconnaissance table, with good views of the whole café and easy access to pouring his fucking coffee all over Newt’s chest.

*

“Really?”

“He has to show up _one_ day.” Thomas reasoned, and ordered his same coffee and sat at the same table and settled down to wait. When it came to revenge plots, he had the patience of a saint.

*

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous.” Minho snorted, but he was already making him his drink without Thomas saying a word.

Thomas ignored him, sat down and surveyed his fellow customers haughtily. Sooner or later (though later was now looking more likely), Newt was going to pay for this in more than just dollars.

*

“I really think it’s time for you to give up on this. It’s ridiculous.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Whatever. Here’s your drink. Try not to spill it over yourself this time.”

*

Minho didn’t work on Saturdays, so Thomas was deprived of the banter as he set in to wait for Newt to show.

Surprisingly enough, he didn’t.

*

“It’s been nearly a week.” Minho pointed out, but Thomas just shrugged. “At some point you have to give up on this.”

“At some point, Newt has to fucking come in for a coffee. He lives around the corner, for God’s sake. It’s inevitable.”

“Your logic is so flawed.”

*

Thomas walked in to the coffee shop the following Monday morning and practically sleep walked over to the counter. Minho winked at him. “Target spotted, ten o’clock.”

And he was right. Thomas had been too tired to look around properly, too used to not seeing Newt that he didn’t trigger when he was actually there. And sat in the perfect position too, like destiny had aligned this for Thomas to exact his revenge. Or Minho had done something sneaky to ensure he sat in a decent position. “Large Americano, extra shot, as hot as you possibly can, please.” He said, breaking into an evil grin. “Shit is going down.”

“You’re a terrible person.”

“Don’t care.” Thomas kept an eye on Newt from across the café – fortunately he was facing the other way, still none the wiser of Thomas’ presence. “He has really cute hair.” He remarked, and Minho scoffed.

“We’re not going to do this again, are we?”

“Do what?”

“The whole ‘I can’t be mad at you because you’re super adorable and I want your man babies’ thing. Either pour a scalding hot cup of coffee over him or drop this entire thing, because this ends today.”

“We would have cute children, though.”

Minho just rolled his eyes. “Target on the move.” He said, indicating to where Newt had stood up, but instead of making for the door, he came back over to the counter.

“Hi! Could I get another medium hazelnut cappuccino to go, please? It’s definitely a two-coffee morning.” He smiled with a charm that could melt the coldest of hearts, and Minho set about putting the coffee together as Thomas kept his head down and attempted not to be spotted. Oh, the wonders of fake texting.

After a minute or so, Newt thanked Minho and took the drink from him, and Thomas made his move. He stood up quickly, loosened the lid of his cup in preparation, stepped in front of him and – “Holy fucking mother of – _shit!_ ” He screamed, as his arm collided with Newt’s mid air and both cups of coffee – his own scalding Americano and Newt’s freshly brewed cappuccino complete with just boiled milk – tipped all down his front.

“Oh my god this is the second time I’ve done this in a week, I’m so bloody sorry, I- … It’s you!” Newt finally looked at him, probably recognised the expression of searing, searing pain on his face, as Minho burst out laughing.

“What did I say?” He crowed, sounding unnecessarily joyous. “Terribly orchestrated revenge plots.” Even Newt saw the funny side, wiping the small splash of milky foam that had hit him off of his hand with a grin.

Thomas was burning up from embarrassment, and burning up from the fucking hot coffee down his shirt _again_ , and fuck this. He tugged his shirt over his head, not putting up with three days of scalded nipples again because holy shit that hurt, and it wiped the smile off of Newt’s face, that’s for sure. His eyes lingered on his chest for a length of time that didn’t suggest heterosexuality and maybe at a different time that would have been interesting, if he hadn’t just completely humiliated himself in front of an entire coffee shop. Brilliant. He took the only route he had left and dramatically stormed out as the entire place watched in amusement. Great.

His first thought when he stepped outside was that it really shouldn’t be this cold in May, and his second was that he was going to have to either walk or get a bus home to get a clean shirt, which was going to suck either way. He decided that walking home was the lesser of two evils, but was barely around the corner when he heard someone yell his name.

It was Newt. Of course it was. “Hey, Thomas, wait up!” He said, so Thomas did, arms crossed tightly across his chest to maintain his body heat and his dignity in equal parts. “You can’t go home like that, you’ll freeze.”

“I have to go to class, so I don’t really have a choice, do I? Since some idiot spilled coffee all over my shirt!”

“When you say some idiot, you mean yourself, right?” Newt teased, but Thomas just glared silently. “I live barely a minute from here. Come up to my place, seriously. I’ll put your shirt in to soak, and you can borrow one of mine.”

“Fine.” He gave in, because it really was cold and there was no way the cream stains were coming out unless it got cleaned like, now, and that shirt was expensive and – oh okay, whatever. Besides, Newt was hot, he wasn’t exactly going to say no.  And he was still totally stealing glances at Thomas’ chest, which he did not fail to notice. “Are you checking me out?” He asked with a smirk.

“No, I just feel slightly guilty about the fact I burned your chest with coffee twice in a week.” He said quickly, but he was blushing profusely, his cheeks going pink as he stared straight ahead. He was so checking him out. Thomas was absurdly pleased with this news, since this was the guy he spent a week plotting revenge against, who he had spent actual multiple hours bitching to Minho about. But then again… He doesn’t usually get that invested in revenge plots.

“I thought we’d established that the second time was entirely my own fault.”

“Good point.” Newt agreed, stopping at the next door and unlocking it. Thomas followed him up two flights of stairs and into the apartment. “My room is that door on the right. Help yourself to anything.” He said, taking the stained remains of his own shirt to put in the wash. Newt’s room was insanely tidy. To be honest, the entire apartment was insanely tidy. He opened the closet, worried there was some strict arrangement of the clothes that he would probably mess up, so just grabbed a plaid shirt and pulled it on. It was insanely soft. Newt was taller than him, and skinnier, but it fit surprisingly well and left him wishing he’d taken Newt up on his offer the previous week.

“Just stop by later to swap back over.” Newt grinned, gesturing at the shirt soaking in the sink. “And next time, plan your revenge attacks better, you idiot.”

*

“You gave him my phone number?” Thomas protested a couple of days later.

“Gave who your phone number?” Minho replied, acting totally innocent and _infuriating_.

“‘You fancy grabbing a coffee sometime? I promise not to tip it over you this time ;)’. He read from his phone, even enunciating the winky face for good measure. “Who do you _think_?”

Minho snorted. “Say yes. You’ll thank me someday.” Thomas flushed a little, mumbled under his breath that he already _had_ said yes but that was _not_ the point.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on [ tumblr](http://wandamaximeff.tumblr.com)! I take requests but usually they take forever to fill so, apologies.


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